


Summer's End

by WearingOutWinter



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Summer Society, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearingOutWinter/pseuds/WearingOutWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how they say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer's End

This is how they say goodbye. 

They wrap her body in a shroud of fallen leaves, the colors of rust and gold and blood. She is not anointed. The shell of her is left its blood and its sweat. Because summer is for war, and it it only right that she pass on bearing all the scars that one of Summer is due. 

They carry her into the woods, the warriors of summer bearing their captain upon their backs one last time. No spears rattle in victory, no drums stir hearts to song and merriment. Many times, after good hunts, after great battles, they lifted her upon their shoulders, and toasted victory in her name. But those times are gone now. Lost in the shadows that twilight conjures under the bent and twisted trees. 

The pyre is already prepared when they reach the clearing.

The ones who lead the procession place her reverently upon the stacked wood, then stand with heads bowed while the rest gather. Slowly, the woods fill up with Summer. It is summer unveiled, summer made terrible and wild with grief. Before the first match is struck, the air in the clearing shimmers with heat-haze. Tears puff to vapor before they trickle down cheeks. 

Her pyre catches with a roar of fury. The flames leap skyward, twisting, contorting, shaking smokey fists at the sky. The fire always knew she would come in time, but to receive her so soon is bitter, so bitter. 

It begins with one who carried her here. She throws her head back, opens her mouth to the sky. A scream of pain and loss splits the night. And then, from a red-raw throat, music rises. 

One by one, around the pyre, it is repeated. Sometimes with a sob, a whisper, a word, sometimes with no preceding sound at all, Summer raises its myriad voices in song. 

This is her pyre-song, the last gift that summer grants as it sends her on her way. It will be sung again, in August, and in every August after, when autumn beckons and summer dies. Then, it will be one song of many, all sung to mark the fallen of the season of war and wrath and bravery. But for now, they sing for her, and only for her. 

Because this is how they say goodbye. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a daze when I really should have been sleeping. 
> 
> The terrible fucking thing is, I haven't even been keeping up with the season. I just happened upon the wrong tumblr post just as I was going to bed, and find out that this shit went down. 
> 
> Well, Summer might have said goodbye to Danny Lawrence, but I'll be damned if I am. #DannyLives.


End file.
